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Happy Hanukkah.

Just a reminder that a 2,176 year old tradition begins anew tonight. So tonight in honor of all Jews living and passed who have helped to light up the world we live in, I light my menorah. I don’t light it out of a profound belief in the miracle of the Maccabees, for I don’t believe in miracles. Nor do light it out of any family tradition, for I was raised Roman Catholic. I light it in honor of the millions of Jewish families who should be lighting their own menorahs tonight; the millions of “missing families” who don’t even exist today because the men and women who would have been their parents and grandparents were slaughtered in the Holocaust. Slaughtered not because of anything they had done, but merely because of who they were.

Hanukkah means "to dedicate."  It’s not a major Jewish holiday, but it is the most well known Jewish holiday to non-Jews, so I think it’s a good time for us non-Jews to dedicate ourselves to remembering the Holocaust; a good time for the world to dedicate itself to never letting such genocide happen again. Religion aside, respecting and protecting all people is just the right thing to do, so for the next eight nights I will light the menorah for those who never had the chance. Happy Hanukkah.

The Ant Farm Incident

It was during the summer of 1989 when my stepson Steven first took an interest in ant farming. Ah yes, that innocent August when hot days were as long as licorice ropes, and a six-year-old's dreams were limited only by the curb at each end of the block.

When I heard the news I remembered how I once asked for an ant farm too. I guess I didn’t play my cards right though because I ended up with a neurotic hand-me-down squirrel instead; a squirrel that bit me all summer long, and hibernated during the winter. Lousy gatherer, that’s all he was. He couldn’t farm a lick. Well I wasn’t about to let this kid’s dream be crushed like mine was, so we sat down... you know, man to man like, and we had a little chat.

“So" I said "ya want to be an ant farmer eh?”

“Umm... yes.”

“It’s a big responsibility ya know.”

“Umm... it’s only four dollars.”

“Sea Monkey’s were only four dollars, but do you remember what the food cost?”

“But ants eat crumbs, and junk.”

Well, that was good enough for me. The Acme Deluxe Ponderosa Ant Farm arrived in the mail three weeks later.

“The ant farm’s here!” I announced.

“The what?” said Steven.

“The ant farm we wanted, I mean you wanted… it came today.”

“Can I watch TV?”

“Don’t you want to put your farm together?”

“Are there ants?”

“They should be in the box. Let’s open it up.”

We spilled the contents of the Acme Deluxe Ponderosa Ant Farm out on the table and took a quick inventory. Green plastic parts, clear plastic parts, bag of sand, tube of live ants, and one instruction manual/accessories order form.

“Well it looks like it’s all here,” I said.

“Can I take the ants out?”

“No, no wait. We have to set up the farm first.”

I've never followed the directions to assemble anything in my life, and I have a drawer full of spare parts to prove it, but I thought this would be the perfect time to set a good step-fatherly example and do this thing by the book.

STEP 1. Assemble the base. See fig. 1

“Can I take the ants out?” Steven repeated.

“Hang on, I’m reading the instructions. Here, snap these two pieces together.”

Before getting to STEP 2. I spied a note on the side of the instruction sheet that said “HINT: Placing ants in freezer before introduction to ant farm will calm ants for easier transfer.”

“Hey, Steven it says here we should put the ants in the freezer.”

“Won’t that hurt ‘em?”

“No, no, it’ll just slow ‘em down a bit so they don’t escape when you put ‘em in the farm.”

So into the freezer went the crew of Ant Station Zebra... Future inhabitants of the Ponderosa Dunes Agricultural Community.

STEP 2. Snap feet to base. See fig. 2... and so on it went as we reviewed each instruction carefully, ate some dinner, and talked about farming... ant farming, and farming in general. Eventually it was time to pour in the sand, so in it went. Well mostly in, a little out.

“We can sweep that up later," I said, "Look, we’re almost done!”

“But where are the tunnels?”

“Oh that’s the fun part. You get to watch the ants dig the tunnels.”

STEP 9. Assemble ant farm lid. See fig. 9

“Snap, click," and the farm was ready
"Can I take the ants out now?” Steven asked.

“Sure, go get ‘em. It’s time to start farmin’."

STEP 10. To calm ants for easy transfer into their new environment place ant vial in freezer for 2 minutes. IMPORTANT: Do not leave ants in freezer longer than 5 minutes!

“Wholly shit!!” I let slip.

“What?”

“Oh nothing… Hurry up, get the ants!”

The ants poured into their new home like a teaspoon of Rice Krispies.

“When are they gonna start digging?” the new farm boss asked.

“Well they need to thaw out first” I said, wondering where I could find a replacement ant colony at this hour.

We watched, and we waited. Then we watched, and waited a little longer. It was like waiting for that first kernel of popcorn to pop, except in this case there would be no second or third, let alone any forth or fifth kernels popping. Five minutes passed, and then... very un-suddenly there was movement in the pile. A lone limping ant emerged from the heap of assorted legs, antennae, and thoraxes. It looked like it had just climbed Mt. Everest barefoot with no oxygen. In other words it was very calm. Slowly it ambled half way across the Ponderosa before stopping to rest.

“What about the rest of ‘em?” Steven inquired.

“I think we got a bad batch.”

The next hour confirmed that yes, we did indeed get a bad batch.

"Well, it's gettin' late," I said.
"They're dead huh?"
"Yeah, but maybe we can find some more outside tomorrow.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

And so we placed the ant farm up on the dresser...
right next to the dried up Sea Monkey aquarium.

“Good night.” I told Steven

“Good night.”

The Curmudgeon’s Holiday Poem

My knees are feeling older

And the toilet seat is colder

But there’s paper in the holder

So I guess it could be worse

Oh the joys of late November

With a turkey to dismember

These are times I will remember

Future stuff to tell my nurse

We all gather at the table

And give thanks that we are able

To watch football on the cable

So we don’t have to converse

Now the Firewood needs chopping

But we’re going Christmas shopping

And the mall is really hopping

No, I will not hold your purse!

In a beard too tightly fitting

Poor ol’ Santa’s head is splitting

On his lap the kids are sitting

Kringle looks a little terse

Little drummer boys are drumming

And the Christmas cards are coming

Now we have some frozen plumbing

This is when I start to curse

Oh the joys of mid December

With a faucet to dismember

These are times I will remember

I feel sorry for that nurse

Oh they say they are delighted

To their party I’m invited

Such delight is unrequited

In their wine glass I immerse

Oh the joys of January

I don’t mean to sound contrary

I’ll say “have a very merry…

Holiday” and I’ll disperse


Yes that was the final verse

Nurse!

Beef Jerky

I’ve been living as a quasi-vegetarian for almost a year now, eating primarily vegetable, fungus, and fish matter with feigned enthusiasm to support my wife’s new “let’s see how old we can grow” healthy lifestyle strategy. Well today I was searching the kitchen cabinet's snack selection of sweet-potato chips, dried fruit chunks, bulk granola, raw almonds, yogurt raisins, etc. when way in the back, behind the natural sea salt chips I spotted a bag of beef jerky ...beef jerky? Wholly smokes! My head went on a swivel to make sure I was alone. My heart started pounding. I suddenly felt flush. "Beef jerky, how long have you been back there little guy?”

Okay, I knew I had to act fast. Luckily we men are always in touch with our lizard brain, and though dormant for much of my adult life I found out today that my primal instincts have remained razor sharp! I immediately remembered being in a similar situation at one other time in my life, and just like that day long ago when I was only twelve years old, I grabbed the dirty magazine, er I mean the beef jerky, and ran to hide it in a place where only I would have access to it, and I’m sure I’ll be going back there often to retrieve it in the coming days. In fact I feel like going back there right now just to look at it.

Umm, let’s just keep this our little secret …okay?

Cursing Hitler

House lights and street lights flickered and dimmed,
as the din of air raid sirens flooded every corridor
like ice cold blood rushing down from the hills.
Soon every light went black, and every sound went silent,
and every breath was held, and every hand was clenched.
Even the iron hands of the old town clock were too afraid to move.

Time stood still, and all the people in the city stood frozen.
But on this night instead of the hum of airplanes approaching,
the coarse scratch of a wood match against a concrete wall broke the silence,
and the flickering face of a withered old man lit the room.
Time moved for him alone as he inhaled from his pipe, and dropped the match.
Pushing through the stillness he opened a door, and stepped into the street.

“I’m sick of your bloody fucking war!” he cursed.
Then he looked up, puffing his tobacco,
and dared the sky to answer him.
Tired and proud, he stood alone,
and he waited, unwavering,
for Hitler to respond.

  

It Just Can’t Get Any Better Than This... Can It?

 
What a great day it was today. The sun was perched up over the house with a big warm grin on its face, and for the first time this year it actually felt like a proper springtime afternoon. Now I didn’t want to insult Mother Nature by staying indoors, so I decided I‘d go give the lawn its second mowing of the season. I used to think that mowing the lawn was a chore, but that was before I’d advanced from the drudgery of push mowing to the pleasures of motorized lawn tractor mowing, which is really just an excuse for drinking a beer and smoking a cigar in the middle of the week, while driving around in circles. You can’t say that about vacuuming now can you ladies? Of course not, so into the closet the vacuum cleaner went, and out the back door I went to answer the beckoning call of a manlier chore, with an ice cold beer in one hand, and a counterfeit Cuban cigar in the other.

In no time at all I was out there on the track lapping the competition… “Outta my way donkey! Look out goat!” Around the tree, past the horseshoe pits, and down the fence line I went. Mowin’ and drinkin’ and smokin’ and bouncin’ my way around the rutted weed carpeted grounds of Johnson Manor. Then about a half a beer later as I was cruzin' by the back deck I thought to myself “Man, it just can’t get any better than this.”

But then a glint of golden sunlight bounced off the glass French doors over by the hot tub, and shot back across the deck straight toward my amber bottle of now warm foamy refreshment, which it struck with an inspiring sparkle that caused me to amend my previous thought to “Man, maybe it could get better than this.” Then I looked back up at those glass French doors as my thoughts continued to drift… “Maybe a topless woman could come walking out of that doorway there, and bring me a fresh ice cold bottle of beer.” You know, because I was working so hard.

Yep, that’s me, the eternal optimist. So as I was riding around the yard smoking like a chimney and drinking like a fish… oh yeah, and mowing the grass, I pulled out my phone and called up the wife up at work and said “Hey honey, why don’t you leave the office early today? …Yes, you deserve it …Yeah, and when you get home could you grab me a beer, but before you bring it outside to me could you take off your….”

“Hello? ...hello?”

Darn cell phones. She must have had a bad connection. Hmmm, maybe I should call her back. I forgot to tell her which kind of beer I wanted.